Memories
by TearStainedAngel24
Summary: Scars may fade, but they never leave, so beware the demons of your past. Prussia/Old Fritz, minor GerIta.


**A/N: Prusssia/Fritz. Deal with it. It's 11:45pm, I should be asleep, but I promised this story today so god damn it, I'm going to post it today. Horray for my 10th published Hetalia story! Which, by the way, I do not own.  
**

It wasn't because his brother was kissing Italy specifically, it was just the fact he was kissing anyone like that. He hated mushy stuff, and always averted his eyes when France was with every other woman he met, or when Spain was around Romano. It wasn't that he was queasy or something, no, he had loved at one point. That was the thing. It brought up too many painful memories, ones he pushed to the back of his mind and only came out on the darkest nights of the year when the silence and blankness swirled around him and choked him, forcing him to remember. Those were the longest nights of his life and the time he felt more alone than ever.

The loneliness bubbled away inside of him like a pot that was boiling, and every now and again it would boil over and leave his mask cracked in half and discarded to the side as he sobbed in private, away from prying eyes that could cripple his heart even more. He felt like the eyes that bored into him could devour his soul at any point if they so desired, so he steered clear of them.

He could laugh, and for a while, he could forget. But they always returned, like a boomerang that came back and smacked him in the face. He was always alone when this happened. He had to be, he would never show weakness around the other nations, no, not even his brother could see him like this.

But as he watched his brother kiss the smaller Italian man, he couldn't help but see memories searing past the back of his eyes. It was no longer Germany kissing Italy, but instead a tall, silver-haired man kissing a smaller, light haired boy. A boy he had later watched as he grew into a king and then into an old man. Centuries it had been, centuries since he had seen that man, the love of his life. And he couldn't help it. Memories were hitting him faster than he could keep up, each one feeling like it was twisting a cold steel knife into his heart. His brother had pulled back in shock, and was looking very embarrassed that the white-haired man had seen that. However, the other was too far lost to his memories to sense anything. He had subsumed to an icy and numb feeling. The other walked forward, confused look on his face.

"Bruder…are you…alright?" Germany questioned, staring at the blank rubies that held no focus. Were his eyes…watering? Germany blanched at this.

"…Fritz…" the other murmured, before chocking out a sob and turning on one heel, stumbling out of the room and crashing into the other wall. Germany watched in horror and confusion as Prussia rebounded off it, and hurled himself toward the front door and into the pounding rain, getting soaked to the bone almost instantly. He just had to get away from the memories, so he did what anyone would do when trying to flee from such a monster.

He ran.

The rain blinded him as he sprinted at a breakneck pace, as the onslaught of memories continued to assault him. The memories of laughter, happiness, sweet victories and bitter defeats all held one thing in common. They all held the scent and sight of the one man Prussia had ever loved. The one man who could make him feel like the happiest man in the world, and the one man that could make him want to give up and crumble away to nothing. He was the greatest man to grace the Earth with his existence, and his only king. His name was Frederick the Great, other wise known as Old Fritz.

He stumbled and fell, tumbling down the barren and empty hill and getting covered in mud in the process. Slick dirt stuck in his hair as rocks scraped and bruised him. With a screech, he hit a bolder, his back cracking and wrapping the wrong way around it. With a sigh he collapsed downward, in a puddle of now red water. Closing his eyes, he allowed the tears to fall, loving the way they warmed his now completely freezing face. With nothing left to do, he allowed the memories to wash over him, relishing their bitter sweetness. It was the only thing he had left of the man, the memories he had left behind. There was nothing left any more, nothing to live for. Heaving another pained breath, he slipped into darkness, purple swirls wrapping their tendrils around his mind and dragging it into the comforting realm of unconsciousness.

"…get up…" A voice echoed from in front of him. Looking up, he saw an angel. Specifically his angel.

"Fritz? Is that…you?" The Prussian just stared, utterly confused. Fritz was dead. Looking around, he realized he was surrounding by darkness, just a small pool of light surround him and Fritz.

"Yes it is. But you should not be here. I love you, I really do, but you annoy me so sometimes." Fritz just shook his head. "You have to get up. Wake up. Wake up my love." Fritz began to fade as feeling began to return to the albino.

"Fritz, wait, don't leave me again!" The Prussian cried out, running forward.

"Wake up liebling…wake up…" Fritz vanished with a smile, but he could still hear someone begging for him to wake up.

"Wake up…mein gott bruder, wecken, bitte…" Ruby eyes opened to see blue eyes full of pleading staring down at him. Blinking, he attempted to sit up, before a jolt of pain made him collapse again. He half-heartedly noticed that it had stopped raining, it was colder than before, and he was hungrier and thirstier than he last remembered. Sighing, he attempted to talk.

"H-how long…was I out." I chocked out, throat rough as sand paper. Germany just heaved a sigh of relief.

"God you scared me…three days you were gone. Three days! Do you know how much you scared us?" He muttered, anger and hurt in his eyes.

"…us?..." Prussia questioned, before catching sight of Austria standing behind his brother, watching the whole scene with a relieved look, clutching his chest and panting with what looked like the aftermath of terror. Hungary was running down the hill behind him, calling out the albinos' and his brothers' name. Italy was standing to the side of Germany and looking at him with tears in his eyes, through there was a joyful smile of his face.

"Oh…us…" Prussia muttered before he blacked out again, though there were no angels in his blank darkness this time.

**A/N: He lives. I just got bored of writing this ._.; It's all good, though. Angsty!Prussia really isn't my thing, but I love writing it DX**


End file.
